Stay
by Echo-AU
Summary: Stay: - it's such a small word; short and to the point, elegant only in its simplicity. But it is perhaps one of the hardest words Emma Swan has ever said, and most definitely the hardest word Regina Mills has ever heard.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing no matter how much I wish I did. I just took them out of the cupboard to play.**

**A/N: My thanks, as always, go to Jo - who continues to go through my crap and make it sound halfway decent :)**

* * *

o

* * *

Emma's eyes open as she feels the subtle shift in weight on the bed, the slight dip in the mattress as a body moves away. The street lamp outside casts a dim light over the bare, olive skin of back and shoulders; a muted light displaying the cheap, white cotton sheets pooling around a slender waist.

She reaches out with her hand to the warm, bare shoulder, only to see the other woman bend at the waist as she picks her blouse up from the floor, slipping her arms quietly through it. Emma's hand retracts, sliding her arm back beneath the covers as she exhales quietly. The red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table tell her it's rapidly approaching 2am.

Once more her eyes graze over the figure sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. A slight movement can be seen as the older woman does the buttons up on her blouse, taking great pains to use the smallest amount of movement necessary; careful not to wake the blonde woman behind her.

"Stay," Emma murmurs quietly, thankful for the darkness in her room.

It might be the lights and shadows playing tricks with Emma's eyes, but she fancies that perhaps she has seen a slight falter from the brunette, a moment of hesitation as she dresses herself. But it is gone in an instant as she watches Regina stand up, pulling her pants up in one fluid motion as the sheet falls away.

"Stay," she whispers again as she leans up on her elbow, eyes searching for the other woman's face in the darkness.

There is a slow exhale of breath and the movement before her stops - she can all but feel herself under the scrutiny of the older woman.

"Miss Swan."

She hears it in the tone, the resignation, and already she knows how this scenario will play out, she doesn't need it vocalized.

"I don't do sleepovers."

And Emma hears it, the clipping at the end of the sentence, the unspoken words. _I don't do sleepovers with you_. Her heart thuds loudly against the inside of her chest, protesting into the silent room.

She wants to ask why, but a larger part of her is afraid the brunette might actually answer this time. Her head falls back to the pillow, eyes averting from Regina as she continues to move around the small bedroom. Looking out the window she sees a faint outline of a cloud hiding the moon, marring the otherwise clear sky. Biting softly on her lower lip she feels as her heart pushes strongly against its cage.

From her side she hears a frustrated sigh and soon light is flooding the room from the lamp at the side of the bed. It is too bright for the conversation they are avoiding and Emma's shiver has nothing to do with the chill in the air. Her eyes turn back to the brunette who is now running fingers through her hair, smoothing out the errant locks into something more manageable; as if anyone will be awake to see her as she drives those few miles home. She watches as Regina leans against a cupboard, slipping one, then two heels on to her feet, brushing out imagined wrinkles from her clothes.

_Stay_, she wants to say again, but she can't bring herself to form the word, can't bring herself to beg any further. Her breath catches as she sees Regina's eyes raking over her upper body, the sheets having fallen to her waist with her movements. There is a moment, as the older woman licks her parted lips, that she thinks perhaps she will crawl back in to bed with her; but as honey brown eyes meet her own the spell is broken and Regina is picking up her handbag from the bedside table.

She doesn't ask a third time, but her eyes express what her voice will not and she sees pity in those dark orbs.

"I would only leave you in the morning anyway," Regina says, her voice low.

But there's a hesitation that Emma notices, a fleeting look that passes across the olive toned features, but it soon gives way, once again, to that look of pity. Anger rises in her, hot and sharp, because it's the only emotion she has that won't leave her a quivering mess before this woman.

"Go," she bites as she shifts her attention once more to the window, noticing in her periphery the brunette holds her ground; notices an arm half outstretched towards her. And it's too much, because she can't be pitied by the woman she loves.

"Go," she says again more forcefully, "go if you want, I can't stop you."

With only a few beats of uncertainty, she finally hears her door open and close behind the brunette.

Leaning over, she flicks the lamp off and is once again thrown in to the dark void of the room; the silence deafening. There is a moment of indecision before Emma stands up, a slight chill in the air against her naked frame, and makes her way over to the window. Looking down on the street below she sees the Mayor exit the apartment building and make her way to her car parked nearby. Without thought, she presses her right palm against the cold glass pane as the moon finally breaks past the cloud.

And she notices it, a falter, as the Mayor looks up towards her window, both bathed in the silver glow of the moon. Not for the first time she wonders if Henry has been right, for in this moment she feels as if Regina has ripped her heart from her chest.

* * *

o

* * *

"Do you even like me?" she asks between gasps as her hands cling desperately to the sheets, sweat beading off her body. It isn't the best time for questions, but there is never another time.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Regina breathes in to her ear.

And it's the kind of answer that isn't really an answer; it's the only answer she is likely to get.

Her senses are on fire as teeth bite sharply into her throat and her body arches involuntarily into the contact. It's going to mark and she supposes that's the point, to be left with a reminder. She clutches tighter at the sheets balled in her fists, unwilling to give Regina the satisfaction of clinging to her.

Looking up in to the coal-black eyes above her face, Regina's own mounting desire displayed so openly before her, is her undoing, and she is thrown in to the raging torrents as she clenches against invading fingers. She doesn't even realize she has threaded her own fingers roughly through chestnut coloured hair nor scratched her way down unmarred olive skin, until her eyes open once more and her world falls back in to focus.

There is only hunger and want and lust and need as Regina pulls herself up over Emma, a knee straddling either side of her head as hands cling to the wooden headboard. She knows this is as much to keep her silent as it is to make a point. Their encounters have never been based on deep conversation or emotion, but the knowledge doesn't help with the wild beating inside her chest.

It isn't long before Regina collapses beside her, features relaxed with a soft smile playing on her lips as her eyes close peacefully. It's with the barest of touches that Emma brushes a few stray locks of hair back behind Regina's ear and is rewarded when her hand is captured by the brunette's and brought to warm lips, kissed and licked and held. She almost forgets to breathe.

But all too soon that spell is broken, the magic unwoven and there is a dip in the mattress as Regina moves off to the side of the bed, searching for her clothes once again in dim light.

She doesn't ask her to stay, but she watches as Regina dresses herself, slate grey dress pulled over slender hips. She won't beg, she won't be pitied, and once more she bites on her lower lip as she averts her eyes.

_Stay_, her mind pleads silently as she hears the zip pulled up. Without conscious thought a single word drops from her lips.

"Why?" she murmurs, eyes still focusing on nothing in particular in the darkness outside the window and there is that hesitation once again from the side of the bed.

"Why what, Miss Swan?"

And Emma can tell it's a question to which Regina doesn't really want an answer.

How can Emma truly answer this? She'd hoped Regina would just know, innately, what it was she needs, but whether this brunette beauty truly has no idea, or wants to avoid the topic, Emma can't say.

"Why," she exhales softly as she turns her eyes back to the woman beside her bed, watching as olive fingers curl around a gold chain at her neck. She doesn't know how to say it without sounding cliché, without sounding like every other lovesick person on the planet.

She can't bring herself to ask the whole question, can't easily ask why Regina would take her down these roads within herself, allow the feelings to take root and blossom, if she never has an intention of reciprocating. And so Emma shrugs and turns her attention back outside before those eyes would once more turn to pity.

The softest sigh of relief reaches her ears and Emma's heart beaks just a little bit more.

She doesn't turn to look as the door opens and feet pad softly out, doesn't turn to look until the click of the door signals that her room is empty once again.

_Now I'm all messed up_, she mutters to herself as she throws an arm over her eyes, her stomach knotting as conjured scenes play out before her. But nothing can stop the small swell of jealousy that wells within her as she imagines Regina in another's arms, another claiming a heart for which so desperately yearns.

* * *

o

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?" Regina hisses, her voice dangerously low as she answers the door.

Emma can't rightly say how it is she wound up at the Mayor's house, but she suspects it has something to do with one of her friends - whether it be Jack, Jim or Johnny she can't remember.

"What if Henry were to see you?"

And those eyes are blazing fiery anger, warming something inside Emma that tells her Regina is capable of more than just indifference.

"What if someone else were to see you?"

She feels herself being pulled inside by her jacket as she notices Regina take a last look outside before closing the door behind them both.

"It's late, no one saw me," Emma answers, but she knows she can't be certain. She barely remembers walking here. At least, she hopes she walked here. A quick pat down of her pockets reveals only her house keys.

She sees Regina's jaw twitch, eyes narrowing just slightly, before she walks off and leaves Emma standing mutely in the doorway. It takes a few moments for coherent thought to filter through her alcohol fogged mind, eventually shuffling forward to follow Regina into the study.

"I'd offer you a drink, Miss Swan, but you already smell like a distillery."

She isn't sure if there had been sarcasm in those words, or only venom, and she takes in the seated form of the Mayor. Fidgeting with her sleeves, she suddenly feels claustrophobic. As Regina points to the seat opposite, Emma finds herself ill-equipped to resist the silent command.

"Why are you here, Miss Swan?"

It could be the alcohol confusing everything, but the tone doesn't sound quite as icy as it maybe once did. It feels like her mouth is full of cotton as she tries to answer.

"Who?" is the closest she manages to a response.

There is an exasperated sigh from the opposing couch and she watches as Regina leans back into it.

"Miss Swan, are you even capable of stringing an entire sentence together?"

She swallows thickly, her tongue feeling oddly swollen in her mouth, and she feels she has made a terrible mistake coming here. She eyes the closed door and gathers what's left of her liquid courage.

"Who else?" she asks, proud that she successfully put two words together.

She sees the look of confusion pass across Regina's face, brows furrowing together.

"Who else is there?" and now she's asked, now she's given it voice.

Comprehension seems to dawn on the brunette and there, in her eyes, that pity once again.

"Don't," she growls as she stands up before the older woman, "don't you dare pity me."

She is surprised when Regina pushes off the couch to her feet, and fingers, like white hot daggers, grab her by the elbow, roughly pulling her to the door. The door opens without a noise and again she is forcibly being pulled, expecting to be thrown out the front door. Instead she is guided up the stairs, stumbling occasionally over her own feet and finds herself, not long after, summarily thrown in to the base of Regina's ensuite shower, clothes and all. There is little care taken as the brunette pulls Emma's shoes off, but it is the shock of cold water hitting her startled body that elicits the cry from her lips.

"Stop struggling."

The words filter through to her and she registers a hand on her shoulder, holding her steadily under the running water. She splutters as water passes over her mouth, eventually throwing her head back out of the cold, streaming jets. Tears prick at her eyes for no reason she can discern.

"Go," she struggles to say as she turns her face from the older woman, the cold water sobering her up faster than she would have imagined.

"And let you drown in my shower? Not a chance, Miss Swan."

It's not until she is a shivering, sober mess in the bottom of the shower that the water is finally shut off. With help from Regina, she stands on shaking legs inside the shower recess and is surprised when the brunette begins to peel the sodden clothes from her body.

"I should go," Emma says, futilely. She hears a grunt from the older woman that may easily be interpreted as _you shouldn't have come_, but she chooses to ignore it. There's no chance of her leaving, her clothes laying clumped in the shower as Regina begins to towel her down, drying her as if she were an infant. There is a tenderness she does not expect as Regina takes great pains to dry her thoroughly; a care that takes her by surprise. Instead of the indignation she expects to feel, there is a comfort and her heart pushes once more against its cage. Emma stands patiently as her hair is wrapped in the towel and is then left to her own thoughts as Regina exits the bathroom. Unsure if she is to follow, she stands there dumbly, arms hanging against her sides as another shiver runs through her, watching the door and hoping.

Moments pass before Regina finally returns, yoga pants and a tank top in hand.

"These will have to do," she says as she holds the clothes out to Emma.

Emma looks at her, confusion clouding her features. She notices a hesitation from the brunette and a slight tic of her jaw.

"Miss Swan, I'm sure you are capable of dressing yourself."

And it seems to hit Emma all at once, the proffered clothing, the expectant look upon Regina's face. Blushing she takes the clothes from the outstretched hands and begins to dress, mumbling her thanks. She watches with guilt as the brunette moves past her and picks up her clothes from the shower recess, exiting the bathroom once more without a word.

She leaves the bathroom not long after, having hung the towel up on a spare hook behind the door, but upon entering the bedroom she feels her feet almost freeze to the ground. The thought of where she is to go now crosses her mind and absently she realizes her apartment keys are in the pocket of her jeans, which have since been taken away. Instead she stands just over the threshold of the bathroom, rubbing at her arms to regain some heat.

It's perhaps only minutes before Regina once again reappears and she sees that look of irritation flash through the brunette's eyes. Whatever her intention had been when she had decided to come to the Mayor's house tonight, she is fairly certain it hasn't yet been achieved. Mutely she watches as the older woman dresses for bed, her feet not once having moved from the first step on to the plush pile carpet.

It isn't until Regina is sliding between the covers that her eyes finally meet Emma's once more and she lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Do you intend to stand there all night, Miss Swan?" she asks, a trace of annoyance in her voice.

It's a moment before the words truly sink in to Emma and her breath catches slightly as her eyes hold a glimmer of hope. She swallows thickly.

But there it is, that trace of annoyance again. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

And she exhales, nothing has really changed. She slips between the covers and stays resolutely on what she determines to be her side of the bed.

There is an odd tension in the air, a silence filled with all the things left unsaid and she sees Regina turn the lamp off in her peripheral vision. The darkness engulfs them thoroughly, no street lights are close enough for any reflection of light; Emma imagines that if she were to hold her hand up to her face she would not be able to see it. It is in this absolute darkness that Regina's voice fills the void.

"I'm not a good person, Emma."

The night swallows her words and Emma doesn't know how to respond. She hears a soft sigh of resignation from the woman to her left and she shifts, a hand reaching out to comfort her. But there is a subtle movement on the bed away from her, away from the touch and she pretends it doesn't cut her to the core as she pulls her hand back. She fights the turmoil inside her, blinks at the pinpricks behind her eyes that no one will see. Another sigh reaches her ears.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Miss Swan."

And she knows, without any doubt, that this request will never be repeated.

"I'm sick inside," she begins, turning her head away from the Mayor, away from the scrutiny she is sure to receive. "I'm sick inside wondering whose life you're making worthwhile. You won't stay, but you keep coming back." She bites back the rest of the things she wants to say; she may have been given a free pass to speak her mind, but she doesn't want to push the boundary.

She wasn't sure if she was expecting an explosion or a confession, but nothing prepares her for the silence that follows. That same silence that holds all the unsaid things between them. Her heart thuds in her chest. It is some time before she hears the older woman speak again.

"I shall wake you before Henry gets up. It won't do for him to see you leaving my room."

Emma nods her agreement, but realizes belatedly Regina would have no way of seeing that in the dark.

"Of course," she murmurs instead and closes her eyes against the tears that threaten to spill.

Moments later she feels the feather light touches of fingers threading their way in to her hand and with more reverence than she thought herself capable of, she closes her hand around that of the brunette.

* * *

o

* * *

She feels foolish for having believed things might have changed after that one night, foolish that her heart had lurched forward and tried to claim what had never been offered. Again she feels the slight dip in her bed as the brunette rolls over, legs sliding over the edge onto a threadbare rug. Once more in the dim light cast by the street lamp she can see bare shoulders, bare back and cheap cotton sheets pooling around that slender waist. But unlike before, she feels no further movement; no scurrying for clothes and she holds her breath, waiting.

It's Regina who breaks the silence first.

"Maybe we should," she begins, but the tone is full of regret and already Emma doesn't want to hear the end of it.

The words change slightly on the second attempt, but Emma likes them less.

"Maybe you should find someone else, Miss Swan."

She lies there on the bed, unmoving and barely daring to breathe, as the words wash over her. She doesn't want to beg, doesn't want to plead and certainly doesn't want to be a pity case. She bites her lower lip and is unsurprised when the taste of copper is upon her tongue. Somehow, she manages to find her voice and is at least thankful it holds steady.

"I don't want to start fresh all over again." _Why won't you just comfort me?_

A hot tear slips down her cheek silently and once more she turns her attention to the window.

"I'm not good for you, Emma. You can do better, you _deserve_ better."

Emma can feel eyes turned to her, has already felt the shift in the mattress again.

"Isn't that for me to decide?"

And there is that sigh once again as she feels the weight shift off the bed, a rustle of clothes being moved from the floor.

"I want _you_, Regina. All the thorns and all the prickles."

"You don't know what you're asking, Miss Swan."

She hears pants being pulled up, a zipper sliding closed. Her fists ball at her sides and she feels her nails dig in to her skin.

"I think you're afraid," she says quietly and there is a dangerous silence that fills the room, but it's too late for her to stop now; the floodgate has been opened.

"I think you're terrified that someone could love you for who you are, not who you pretend to be. Through all the faults and flaws, that's exactly what I do. I love _you_, Regina Mills." She could feel her eyes flashing fire, knew she was walking a very precarious line.

There is a hesitation at the side of the bed and something akin to the sound of breath catching in a throat.

"So you could stay," Emma begins, her tone hard, but finds herself cut off.

"Miss Swan."

And there it is again, the pity in the voice. She swallows past the lump in her throat. She won't be the subject of pity.

"Go," she says dejectedly.

_Please stay._

She waits for the inevitable movement from the side of the bed, waits for the click of the door.

"Go," she says again as she finally sees motion.

_Please stay_.

She watches from the corner of her eye as a shirt is pulled over soft, brunette hair, covering smooth, olive skin.

"Go if you want, I can't stop you."

_Please stay_.

There is silence as Regina reaches for the doorhandle and Emma resolutely keeps her eyes fixed on the moon outside her window. She hears the handle turn and the soft click as the door closes. As she hears that sound, her tears begin to fall and a soft keening sound escapes from her lips, her world beginning to crash around her.

It is with shock that she feels the bed move as a weight is applied to it; as strong arms pull her in to a tight embrace and kisses are placed to the top of her head. She wraps her arms around the brunette's slender waist, hears Regina's heart beat rapidly beneath her ear as her own head is held tightly to the older woman's chest.

It is only when Regina cups her head, lifting it and pressing their foreheads together that Emma finally hears her speak. The words themselves tumble from her lips, barely louder than a thought as they spill.

"I want to stay."

* * *

o

* * *

**A/N: For those interested - I was listening to a Tegan and Sara song entitled "Messed Up" and I couldn't help but imagine these scenes playing out. If you haven't heard it (or heard of Tegan and Sara) do yourself a favour and go listen to them :)**


End file.
